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 Answers to review questions from Chapter 8
1. In Java, what header line would you use to define a class named Sub that inherited the public behavior
from a class named Super?
public class Sub extends Super

2. True or false: The superclass specification in a new class definition may not be a parameterized class
with specific instantiation of the types.

False.

3. True or false: A new definition of a method in a Java subclass automatically overrides the definition of
that method in its superclass.
True.

4. What is an abstract class? Is it possible for an abstract class to provide its own implementation of its
exported methods?
An abstract class is a class definition that cannot be instantiated on its own but only by creating
one of its subclasses. The abstract class can provide implementations of exported methods,
which can then be used for any subclass.

5. What two levels of access control does Java offer beyond public and private?
Protected access is available to subclasses of the class and any classes in the same package.
Package-private classes (which do not specify any of public, private, or protected) are
available only to classes in the same package.

6. A constructor for a subclass always calls a constructor for its superclass. How do you specify that you
would like to call some constructor that is not the default constructor?

The keyword super specifies a call to one of the superclass constructors.

7. What strategy is suggested in the chapter as an alternative to inheritance?

In many cases, it is better to embed an existing object inside a new class and then use forwarding
to implement the desired operations.

8. What are the three concrete GObject subclasses implemented in this chapter?
GRect, GOval, and GLine.

9. Which of these subclasses respond to the method setFilled? Which respond to the method
setColor? In which classes are these two methods defined?

The GRect and GOval classes respond to setFilled, which is defined in both of these classes.
The setColor method is defined in the GObject class and is therefore available in all three
subclasses.

10. In what ways does Java’s coordinate system differ from the traditional Cartesian coordinate system?
The Java coordinate system has its origin in the upper left corner instead of the lower left corner
traditionally used in the Cartesian plane.

© 2017 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

11. What classes exist in the superclass chain for GWindow, going all the way back to Object?
java.lang.Object
java.awt.Component
java.awt.Container
java.awt.Window
java.awt.Frame
javax.swing.JFrame
acm.graphics.GWindow

12. What is the purpose of the synchronized statement in the implementation of the GWindow class?
Java’s synchronized statement is to ensure that two threads do not try to update some data
value simultaneously. In the GWindow implementation, the thread that runs the application is
independent of the thread that repaints the components on the screen. Without the
synchronized statement, it is possible that the application will try to add a GObject to the
contents list while the repainting thread is going through its elements.

© 2017 Pearson Education, Inc., Hoboken, NJ. All rights reserved.

Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
 ‘Your dear Mother sends me delightful accounts of the devotion of
some of the Cambridge men, and their readiness to engage in
Missionary work, if they saw the way clear. Now, dearest Fred, could
there be a clearer opening than at Batala for an earnest Christian
man, whether in Orders or not? I am not thinking of you, for I would
not have any one subject to headaches come to this feverish land;
but I am thinking of your brother collegians. Batala, for
evangelisation, is a very central point; no end of work might be
done; and it is a hopeful place....
‘But I will be more minute in particulars.... I am not writing of one
who wishes to become one of the regular salaried Missionaries of
our Society; but of one who has the means to be an Honorary
worker. Say he has an income of £100. He would find at Batala a
home,—not a very luxurious one, but quite enough so for a
Missionary. His £100 would be enough for all his personal wants,
unless he travelled much; and he might keep a little horse, unless,
like ——, he preferred spending his extra rupees on something else.
He could at once help with English classes, if he chose to do so, and
in the meantime learn the language.... If he had a taste for shooting
and fishing, he would find means of gratifying it; and if he were a
good cricketer, it would add to his influence over our boys. If he had
any architectural skill, he would help us to build our church. If he
were musical, it would be a great advantage. He might lead a very
happy life, and an exceedingly useful one. We are in such want of
men; not mere bookworms, but earnest, devoted, bright, active
Christians, who can turn their hands to everything, and help to
mould the minds of our rising generation. We want more St. Pauls!’

This chapter can hardly be better closed than by

quoting Miss Tucker’s descriptive lines as to the
necessary qualifications for a ‘Mission Miss Sahiba,’
already alluded to. They were written at Amritsar, as
early as the year 1876:—
 RULES AND REGULATIONS

‘The Mission Miss Sahibas must never complain;

The Mission Miss Sahibas must temper restrain—
When “sust”[91] pankah-wala won’t pull at the cane;
Must never be fanciful, foolish, or vain.

‘The Mission Miss Sahiba in dress must be plain;

The Mission Miss Sahibas must furnish their brain,—
Of two or three languages knowledge obtain,—
When weary and puzzled, must try, try again;
We cannot learn grammar by leger de main.

‘The Mission Miss Sahiba must know every lane,

Climb ladder-like stairs, without fearing a sprain;
The Mission Miss Sahibas must speak very plain,
Must rebuke and encourage, must teach and explain;
The Mission Miss Sahibas must grasp well the rein;
The Mission Miss Sahibas must not look for gain,
Though doctoring sick folk, like Jenner or Quain.

‘Let Mission Miss Sahibas from late hours refrain,

For they must rise early, and bear a hard strain,
Like vigorous cart-horses, drawing a wain,
That pull well together, when yoked twain and twain.
The Mission Miss Sahibas must work might and main,
And therefore good nourishment should not disdain,—
Or danger is great of their going insane.

‘The Mission Miss Sahibas must topis[92] retain,

Must guard against sunstroke, to health such a bane;
And midst frogs and mosquitoes must patient remain,
Yes, e’en when tormented, must smile through their pain;
And, with courage like that of the knights of Charlemagne,
By Mission Miss Sahibas snakes should be slain.

‘ h hb h ld ll h
 ‘The Mission Miss Sahibas should sow well the grain,
Dark babies should fondle, dark women should train,
And Bibis and Begums at times entertain;
Should smile and should soothe, but not flatter or feign;
And to usefulness thus they may hope to attain.

‘N.B.—Let all Mission Miss Sahibas single remain,—

If they don’t, they step out of their proper domain,—
And can never be Mission Miss Sahibas again!’

CHAPTER IX
a.d. 1879
THE CHURCH AT BATALA

The annals of 1879 are as usual very abundant,

and space can only be found for a limited selection of
extracts. Miss Tucker was much distressed about the
Afghan war; not because of any possible peril or
discomfort to herself, but because her judgment
disapproved of it as a whole, and also because of the
sufferings which she knew it must entail upon the
soldiers.
While the larger number of extracts given are,
throughout her Indian career, in reference to the
work going on round about her, it must not be
supposed that her love for relatives and old friends,
or her interest in all that concerned them, ever for a
moment waned. The letters teem with loving words
and messages; and every item of news from England
is received with delight. Her affections seem to have
grown stronger rather than weaker, through long
separation.

‘Batala, Jan. 16, 1879.—Mine own Laura, how could you write
regarding the little meeting, at which you and sweet Margaret were,
“Would you not like to be in my shoes at the time, and hold your
darling friend in your arms?” I would much rather have been in
Margaret’s shoes, and have held some one else in my arms,—only
for the wrench that would have followed! But O love, we are
travelling in the same train, only in different carriages; and I am
thankful that though we cannot see each other, we can as it were
talk to each other out of the windows. What a blessing the Post is!’
 TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.
‘Jan. 20, 1879.
‘Ours is not to be a village church, dear, but one in a city of more
than 25,000 inhabitants, where there are graceful mosques, a large
idol-temple, etc. A mere mud shed would be quite out of character;
our present room in a schoolhouse would be better than that. There
is considerable difficulty and expense in buying a site. It ought to be
in the city. I have written to dear —— about one which Mr. Baring
has seen, but it is very doubtful whether the place can be
purchased.
‘My nephew and I are both economical, and I think that you and
dear Fred may depend on money not being wasted in useless
decorations. But the sacred edifice ought to be of brick, and pretty
strong, not only to endure for years, but also to keep out the heat. A
tiny church would not cost much; one so small that beams could
reach from side to side. But if our Church is to go on growing, as we
hope and pray that it may, what would be the advantage of having a
tiny chapel, which would not comfortably accommodate ourselves in
a fiery climate, and in which there would be no room at all for
heathen spectators? We should be wanting a second; and how could
we procure a second clergyman? Please thank dear Fred very, very
much for his kindness in collecting, and assure him that we wish to
make the money go as far as possible.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Jan. 31.—I sometimes think that it is well for me that I have no
one to carry cushions after me,—as the dear A——s made the boys
do in George Square,—or to watch my face to see if I look pale. I
have been enabled to make efforts, for which I might not have
thought my frame capable, and have kept my health wonderfully.
‘This is the eighth day that I have not seen an English person!
Mera Bhatija has been away on duty; but I hope to have him back
to-morrow. I shall not be sorry to see him again; we are becoming
more and more like real Aunt and Nephew. He wanted me to go to
Amritsar during his needful absence; but there were strong reasons
against that....
‘As regards health, we are between Scylla and Charybdis. People
in India cannot help thinking a great deal about it, because five
minutes’ carelessness may wreck health for life; yet it is a great
matter for us, if possible, to keep from sinking to the languid
“cannot-do-anything” point. To rest there is something like letting
the head go under water. I often think of dear Uncle Tom’s
expression,—“Never say die!”’

TO MRS. E——
‘Feb. 4, 1879.
‘My nephew, the Rev. F. Baring, has organised little relief works;
for, owing to drought, and partly to the war, there is much distress in
Batala. If you were here, dear Aunt, it would interest you to walk
about, leaning on my arm, and see poor men in their rags, women
and children, carrying baskets of earth on their heads, to fill up that
part of the tank which is nearest to the house. It is a good thing for
us, but a better thing for the poor folk, who are thankful to earn
their pice. Mr. Baring intends also to give poor women in the city
employment in spinning, and to get a Christian native weaver to
make the cotton into towels or napkins....
‘Both my nephews, Mr. Bateman and Mr. Baring, are very clever in
finding ways to start the Converts in life, giving them means of
earning an honest livelihood. One fine lad has a place in the Woods
and Forests Department; another is learning work in the Press; a
third is to be employed in a religious book-shop; a fourth convert is
doing profitable business as a small wood-merchant. Another, who
has a little money of his own, intends to set up a small shop in his
own village. This is rather brave, as, only a month or two ago, he
was driven forth by his own family with threats and curses. It seems
to me that a very important part of a Missionary’s work is to watch
over converts after Baptism, both as regards body and soul. In the
Church, in the time of the Apostles, converts were not left to starve.
They must not be idle, but they must have the means of earning
their bread. We also greatly wish that every Native convert should
feel it to be his or her work to bring in others to Christ....
‘We intend to have a Fancy Fair in April, for the Church which we
hope to build; but the great puzzle will be to find buyers,—Mr. Baring
and myself being the only white folk in Batala, and Natives generally
disliking to spend money, except on marriages, funerals, jewels, and
sweetmeats.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘March 3.—I have another dear letter, to-day received, to thank
you for. You need take no thought, love, about where I sit. We have
benches in chapel; and as for my duli—to sit on its flat floor does not
hurt me in the least. I dare say that dear E. never got into the way
of it; but I take to it as a duck to the water. The only difficulty is the
scrambling out of the box; but this does me no harm; it is
wholesome exercise. As for a carriage, it would be useless in Batala.
I was regularly blocked in to-day, even in my tiny duli. The streets
are so narrow and so crowded....’

TO W. F. T. HAMILTON.
‘March 17.
‘Our saintly Bishop, Dr. French, is now our guest.... We are having
such an interesting time, a heart-warming time! There is to be a
Confirmation to-morrow; and oh, through what fiery trials some of
the dear candidates have come! There is B—n, ... the first man who
dared to be baptized in bigoted Batala. His Baptism cost him wife
and child. There is the thin, worn B. D., with his hair turning grey;
the only Christian in his village, he whom his own mother has
reviled.... There is the aged Faqir and his stalwart sons,—but I need
not enumerate all. I have told you enough to show what peculiar
features of interest may attend a Confirmation in India,—especially
perhaps in so thoroughly Oriental a place as this, where there are no
Europeans at all but my nephew and myself.
‘Ours is such a dear little Church,—I am not aware that there is
one really black sheep in it, though there are some infirm ones. Ten
women are to receive Confirmation. I think that all but perhaps one
have been converts from Muhammadanism or Hinduism. I do not
mean to say that they are all Batala people; but Batala is a genial
place to which converts seem drawn.
‘To-morrow, after Confirmation, we hope to spread, not the board
but the floor, for a goodly number of welcome guests, more even
than we had at Christmas. One feels very thankful to see such a nice
large Christian family.... Of course some Stations are more trying to
faith; some of God’s servants have to toil for years, and apparently
catch nothing; but about here in various directions one hears of
converts and inquirers. There is feeling of life stirring among the dry
bones.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘April 1, 1879.
‘Do you ever enter Trinity Church?[93] Probably not, it is so far
from you. To your sweet Mother and myself many memories are
connected with it. Weddings and Christenings,—the overflowing
pew,—the corner of it where we used to see the dear bald head of
our venerated Father!...
‘We have a dear young convert from a village, who, like others,
finds in Batala a refuge. A simple guileless lad, who likes to come, as
dear U. did, to sit at one’s feet, and have a talk about God’s Word....
He does not know much, but enough to have enabled the lad to
resist temptation and endure persecution.... I wish that dear ——
would take up the subject of portable Bibles in Persian Urdu. Even
the children of clever Christian parents are apt to be sadly ignorant
of Old Testament Scriptures. How much would English school-
children know of them, if they could only buy Bibles in three (Persian
Urdu) large volumes,—or in one (Arabic Urdu), very large and
heavy?
‘It is not only the expense but the extreme inconvenience of such
bulky books that must be considered. Mera Bhatija has English Urdu
Bibles for his boys, but some read them with difficulty; and we
cannot expect a nation to adopt a new type utterly different from its
own. There is a beautifully written New Testament in Persian Urdu ...
light, easily carried about, and costing only half a rupee. This is a
great boon; but we want the Old Testament Scriptures.... They are
at present almost shut out from the people. Our great want is a
complete Bible, as delicately written out, and on as fine light paper,
as the New Testament, and not very expensive. Most of the Natives
are so very poor. I can scarcely imagine how they manage to live.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Batala, April 20, 1879.
‘Your dear, sweet letter received to-day was like a nice little visit to
me in my comparative loneliness. Mera Bhatija and Babu Singha are
both away at Amritsar.... If, when proposing to come out, I could
have been told that I should be all alone in a house with thirteen
Native boys,—my Ayah is absent from late illness,—I should have
been startled, perhaps half-frightened. But these dear fellows do not
worry me at all. I asked one of them yesterday: “If I were ill, which
of you would nurse me?” “All of us,” was the reply. I thought that
thirteen boys would be too much for a sick-room; so—“We would
take it in turns,” was the second answer....
‘Many thanks, love, for the two copies of the nice work on
Prophecies in the Old Testament. It ought to convince any candid
mind.... It might be valuable to English-reading Muhammadans. But
it is not at all necessary with them to avoid the Blessed Saviour’s
Name. Yesterday, in a Zenana a bright-looking young woman
exclaimed, not particularly apropos to anything that I was saying:
“Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” “Beshakh!” (Without doubt!)
instantly rejoined an older Bibi.
‘Not that the offence of the Cross has ceased. The persecution
which dear —— is enduring shows this. He has been beaten five or
six times; and I think that we shall have to try to get his enemies
bound over to keep the peace. Personally, I am courteously,
sometimes affectionately, treated. The poor converts are those who
have to endure hardness!’

‘April 27.—I know that some of my dear ones think that I must be
very lonesome, with no white woman near me. But there are three
things to prevent this:—1st, The Presence of the Master. 2nd, The
feeling that separation of body is nothing compared to separation of
soul. My ties to loved ones in England are not, thank God, broken!
They do not depend on mere space. 3rd, Real loneliness, as regards
even this world, is the want of love and sympathy. Some count my
brown friends for nothing in this way. I do not do so. They draw out
one’s affections, and respond to them. The heart does not shrivel up
in India, even when one lives in such an out-of-the-way place as
Batala.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘May 1, 1879.
I am sure that your dear Mother and you would peruse with
interest Keshab Sen’s lecture, or rather the review of it in the
Statesman which I sent home.... Keshab Sen was a brave man, not
only as regards the Hindus, but the English officials, to say what he
did. To aver that it is Christ’s Religion—not our superior strength,
wisdom, intelligence—that holds India for us, is likely to give great
offence in high quarters. To say what this Hindu did of despised
Missionaries, a band of weak-minded amiable enthusiasts, if not
something more contemptible,—as the world thinks them,—showed
moral courage.... He has probably made a good many people, both
white and brown, angry. His cry, “Jesus alone!—Jesus alone! India
for Christ!” would find no echo in the large majority of hearts....
‘I suspect that there is an impression amongst some Europeans,
as well as Natives, that Auntie is very old. I have three times heard
the latter say that I am a hundred; and I notice that in the last
Female Evangelist I am pronounced “advanced in years.” To my mind
that means at least seventy!!! I was guessed to-day as eighty in a
Zenana. But I must be thought a pretty active old dame, to get up
such steep stairs as I do.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘June 2, 1879.—Of course I cannot tell what God wills for me. I do
not intend to do anything foolish. I do not even let my mind dwell
much on the joy of going to a Heavenly Home, because it would
seem selfish at present to wish to desert others. I realise more the
value of life below than I used to do, and am thankful that at former
periods God did not fulfil my wish to leave this Earth for a better. He
is a poor soldier who is always pining for the end of the campaign!’

‘June 14.—I never felt so that the Word of God in my hand was
rejected, as in a Zenana to-day. When I came out, V., my kahar, said,
“You should not go to that house again. I was outside, but I heard
words that grieved me.” But I had two nice Zenanas and a nice
Native Christian home to balance. One of the nice Zenanas was N.’s.
He spoke almost like a Christian, before his mother, grandmother,
and handsome young bride. They all seemed quite friendly.’

‘June 20.—Darling Laura, your sweet letter has arrived since I

wrote the first note. Would you fairly kill me with kindness? You have
already done too much. No, my sweet sister, I would never like to
take your money for needless luxuries,—of comforts I have many.
Ice is not to be had, is not needed, and I hardly ever even think of
it. We are much better without a carriage; walking is more
wholesome, and to me more pleasant. I kissed the signature on the
cheque—and then—destroyed it! Forgive me! In about two years I
have had three cheques declined; so you see that I have enough
and to spare. I am quite easy-handed, love; not at all in straits,
thank God.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

(Probably July 1879.)
‘I am engaged in a matrimonial affair. B., Mera Bhatija’s Christian
servant, having just been rejected by one woman, solicits, through
my Ayah, my good offices to find him a wife. He bears a first-rate
character, and would make an excellent husband, but he has the
single disadvantage of having only one leg. I know that Mera Bhatija
wishes B. to have a nice wife; so—after consultation with one who
knows the Orphanage maidens well, and has an excellent judgment,
—I have fixed on a jolly, good-tempered girl, ... able to cook and
scrub, and have written a note to the Lady Superintendent,
requesting her permission for B. to pay court to C. C. is to be told of
the lameness, etc., and then if she too be willing, B. will be allowed
to have an interview with her. This interview decides the affair. Both
parties have a negative voice; both must be pleased; and if so—the
banns are published! This is the compromise between European and
Oriental ways of arranging marriages. I think that Mera Bhatija takes
a lively interest in the matter; and if the marriage comes off, we
should both like to have the wedding at Batala. The people here
ought to have the opportunity of seeing a Christian wedding.’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘July 29, 1879.
‘I will give you another of my little Batala sketches. I am sitting
reading. Enters M., the tall one-armed Faqir (religious beggar), who
has been acting as Mera Bhatija’s pankah-wala. He evidently wants
to talk with me; so, seeing me willing to listen, the tall fellow seats
himself on the floor, and begins....
 ‘The poor fellow had been thinking how he could earn his
livelihood,—he has a wife and four children, and of course religious
begging would be for a convert both improper and unprofitable.
“Pankah-pulling will last for but a short time,” he very truly observed.
His plan was to start a little school in his own village.
‘“But could you get pupils?” I asked, knowing that the humble
converts are not kindly treated by their neighbours.
‘“I think that I could from the hamlets round.”
‘Then I inquired as to the poor Faqir’s qualifications for a teacher.
“I can read the Gospel well,” was the simple reply.
‘“Can you write?”
‘He was weak in that, poor fellow. Having only one arm increases
the difficulty.
‘“Do you know accounts?”
‘“No,” he frankly owned; but he could learn; he would take pains.
‘“You had better speak to the Padri Sahib; he makes all the
bandobast (arrangements); he is wise and kind.”
‘If I would speak to the Padri Sahib,—he could tell me; but with
the Padri Sahib he was shy, etc.
‘It is rather refreshing to see a Native Christian, especially one
brought up to regard idleness rather as a virtue, turning over in his
mind what he can do to earn his living. If we help poor M. to a little
better education, perhaps his little village school may prove not a
bad idea, for the scholars would learn what is good from him,
though they could only have elementary teaching. I do not see why
rustics should want high education. The Government are educating
thousands of clever infidels, who cannot all find employment as
clerks, etc., and who will despise manual labour. We want simple
pious labourers to mind the plough, spell out their Testaments, and
try to obey God’s commands.’
 August and September this year saw Miss Tucker,
not at Dalhousie, but at Dilur, 3000 feet above the
sea, with forest-clothed Himalayan slopes below, and
snow above. She went there, partly for the change,
but more for the sake of staying with a young
married couple, to whom her companionship was a
boon. The snow appears to have soon vanished, as
in one letter, written in September, she observes:
‘The mountains are quite high and bold enough for
beauty, though to my comfort there is not a soupçon
of snow upon any of them.’ From the budget of Dilur
letters, only two quotations can be given. The first is
rare in style at this period of Charlotte Tucker’s life.
She seldom found time for written ‘cogitations.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘Dilur, Aug. 25.
‘This is a very quiet place ... so I have plenty of time for thinking. I
have been musing to-day why it is so very much more easy to love
some Christians than others. You and every other servant of God
must feel this, I think. It is not quite easy to get at the bottom of the
matter. I ought to have particular facilities for judging; for, thank
God, I find it easy to love a good many.
‘I have been considering to-day that simile of the four different
circles round Him Who is the Centre of light, holiness, and beauty.
Those who live nearest to Him, I do believe, actually catch
something, however faint, of His likeness.... Christ is the All-
attractive; and in the degree that His redeemed ones reflect His
Image, it seems to me that they unconsciously attract. If I be not
mistaken in this idea, one sees why anything of littleness or
meanness repulses. Those possessing such qualities may be sincere
servants of Christ; but these qualities spoil all likeness! So, love, here
is the result of my cogitations, as I reclined on the sofa to rest
myself after rather a tiring little expedition.
‘But oh, what a solemnising thought it is!—The likeness to Him,
which we know will be apparent in another world, to begin in this!
The glass of our souls, so spotted and dusty,—spotted with sin, and
dusty with pettiness,—to be cleansed and polished, so as to receive
such an Image! But you and I, love, have caught a glimpse of that
Image in those whom we have been privileged to know; have we
not?’

TO MRS. HAMILTON.
‘Sept. 29.
‘Yes, precious Laura, you might be sure that Char does not forget
you in prayer any day; but your last dear letter from Ilfracombe
made me more inclined to praise. It seemed as if God had granted
just what I wished for you; that spiritual joy which is His special gift.
Why should the Children of Light tread the pilgrim way in heaviness?
“Light is sown for the righteous,” and the crop begins to show itself
even here....’

Later, in the same letter, when speaking of two

young converts, she says of one of them:—

‘He is a Mullah’s (Muhammadan religious teacher’s) son, and has

been brought up in a fine school for bigotry. He told me what a merit
it is considered to kill infidels; and that, when a child, he had
intended to acquire this merit. “Do you mean that, if they could, the
Muhammadans would think it right to kill all the Europeans and
Native Christians?” I asked. “Beshakh!” (Without doubt!) replied the
lad simply. Happily all Muhammadans are not Mullahs’ sons!’
 ‘Batala, Oct. 31, 1879.—What shall I say for the splendid box,
which reached me in perfect condition to-night? I am almost
bewildered by the multitude of my possessions, and have hardly yet
quite realised their amount.... What shall I begin with?—not the
medicine, surely,—and yet quinine is such a treasure in India, so
often required, asked for! It is the medicine in a fever-land. And it is
dreadfully expensive. I think that I once paid more than a guinea for
a bottle, not a large one. But the cretonne—yes, that must have a
principal place in my letter of thanks; such a splendid supply!...
‘I hope that my Laura will forgive me if I do not gobble up all the
groceries myself!! Of the chocolate and biscuit I shall probably
largely partake; they are such a comfort on winter mornings....’

‘Nov. 13.—I think that this is the fourth Anniversary of my landing

at Bombay,—my Indian birthday! Oh, how much I have to be
thankful for! Surely goodness and mercy have followed me!
‘Shall I give you a sketch of this my Indian birthday? Up early—for
I went to bed early. Ate two or three of my Laura’s biscuits, and
enjoyed them. Wrote till dear good R. brought the hot water for my
bath. Then came breakfast No. 2—tea and an egg. At 7 a.m., or
thereabouts, the prayer-bell rings, and we all assemble in chapel.
After chapel comes my delightful walk in the fresh morning air. A
little more writing and reading, and—breakfast No. 3 with Mera
Bhatija at 9. After that, off to the city on foot, my kahars carrying
my duli behind me.
‘In the city I visited first a Muhammadan Zenana, then paid my
weekly visit to our Brahmin convert, B.’s wife.... Then went to G. R.’s
Zenana, where are four generations of the family. I can read the
Gospel there, without let or hindrance. The sweet young Bibi looked
as if she would like me to kiss her,—so I did! Then to Sadiq’s mother.
After this I returned home, noted down where I had been, and then
—did not set to my lessons. I had something else to do. The cloth of
our large screen was dirty; so Mera Bhatija suggested our putting
the pictures on a nice clean one, and having the first white-washed.
So I got in my Ayah to help me, and we were stitching away like
anything, when I was interrupted by a visitor.
‘No fashionable lady,—no insipid individual, such as you must talk
to about weather, etc., but a fine, thoughtful young Man,—who had
been given a New Testament, which he is reading every day, and
who sat down on the floor, and quietly, gravely, asked me to explain
difficulties which he had met with in his reading, such as Daniel’s
“abomination of desolation,” the two women grinding, etc.... When
he left, I returned to my beauty screen, but was interrupted by dear
good Bibi M., who came to read her report. She also wanted quinine,
—I am rich, my Laura knows. This brought me up to 3 o’clock dinner.
‘Poor N. N. is not well, so I had no afternoon lesson from a
Munshi, but I did a little by myself. Then out into the bright, pleasant
air, where I had a nice talk with dear I. and P. After I came in, Mera
Bhatija and I had tea,—now I am writing to my Laura by lamplight;
and when I lay down my pen, I intend to do a little lessons. I have
written out my vocabulary very large, so as not to injure my eyes. At
8½ I shall hear the bell ring for prayers; and that almost closes the
day.
‘Now is not this a very nice Indian birthday? I feel quite well and
hearty now; much stronger than when in the Salt range.’

‘Nov. 22.—Cold having set in pretty sharply, I have taken my

“graceful Grey” and faithful old Green out of their safe summer
quarters, and have prepared them for immediate service, putting in
lace to the sleeves, etc. The Episcopal Purple, my grand new dress, I
reserve for grand occasions. My dress must be well fastened up, and
decidedly more than clear the ground, when I go to Zenanas. See
me, in fancy, climbing slowly up a dirty steep outside staircase. I
have the indispensable umbrella in one hand,—though it be winter,
the sun may be blazing,—my large books in the other. Unless I had a
third hand, I could not hold up my dress; and the steps may be of
mud. Trains, elegant in the house, would never do in Zenanas.... I
hope that you and dear Leila will be interested to hear that our one-
legged B., in search of a wife, has succeeded in finding one. I think
that their banns have been called twice; and we shall probably see
the happy pair next week.’

TO MISS ‘LEILA’ HAMILTON.

‘Nov. 29, 1879.
‘Yesterday, at last, the cricket-match between our School and the
big Government School came off. We challenged the Government
School long ago; but they took no notice. Yesterday, however, a
match was arranged between our Christian School and the
Government one, which is about ten or twelve times as large. We
were much the first on the ground, and were kept waiting for more
than an hour. Most of our Eleven wore red-checked flannel vests, but
R. the captain had a becoming grey one.... At last the match
commenced; but it was hardly worth calling one. The Government
lads could not hold their own in the least! The whole Eleven only
made 5 runs between them!
‘It was a very different thing when our boys took the batting. It
does one good to hear the thud from R.’s bat when he sends the ball
flying ever so far. He and S. made, I think, 87 runs, and were never
bowled out. The rest of our boys had no turns at all; for the sun
went down, and still R. and S., tired, but unconquered, held their
wickets. What is most pleasing is that our boys did not crow as they
might have done,—their opponents were too utterly smashed. Had
the contest been a close one, there would have been plenty of
cheering.
‘I really hope that it may do good for it to be known through
Batala that, in a manly game, the Hindus and Muhammadans
“cannot hold a candle” to the Christian boys, who go preaching and
singing hymns on Sunday! Piety is all the more attractive from union
with manliness.
 ‘Dec. 8.—Mera Bhatija intends to start a reading-room in the city
in 1880, with Bibles in various languages, books, and some Native
periodicals. The Illustrated—if you think of continuing it—will form
one of the baits. Many lads now can read a little English; and the
pictures will form an attraction.’

CHAPTER X
a.d. 1880-1881
LOYAL AND TRUE

The series of extracts from letters, through the

year 1879, given in the last chapter, will convey a fair
general idea of how many succeeding years were
passed. To quote with equal fulness from each year
would mean—not one comparatively small volume,
but two large ones; and, however interesting the
subject-matter in itself, readers might be expected to
grow weary.
Year after year Charlotte Tucker lived on in the old
palace, which had so strangely become her home,
surrounded by the brown boys, whom she loved; and
by the spring of 1880 they had grown to forty in
number. Year after year she wrote little booklets for
the Natives of India. Year after year she persisted in
her steady round of Zenana visits; not, like the
average district-visitor of England, going once a
fortnight or once a week into her district,—which was
the whole city of Batala,—but day after day giving
hours to the work, never daunted because results
seemed small, never apparently even tempted to
throw up her arduous task in despair. She had to
plough for the Master of the harvest; and she was
content to leave results with Him.
It must have been a monotonous life, viewed from
ordinary standpoints. Charlotte Tucker had had
plenty of society in the past; and though she might
laugh at stiff dinner-parties or dull morning calls, she
had fully enjoyed intercourse with superior and
cultivated minds. Some amount of such intercourse
she had still in the Panjab; but for months together,
as time went on, she was thrown mainly upon her
own resources, was left with absolutely no European
companions. It is hardly within the bounds of
possibility that she should not have suffered from the
deprivation, cheerily as she received it.
‘Missionaries in work are usually rather “yoked two
and two,”’ she wrote to an Aunt, in the beginning of
1880. Then after a slight allusion to her successive
‘yoke-fellows’ at Batala, she adds brightly: ‘And I look
forward for the greater part of 1880 to going side by
side with Babu Singha, the converted Hindu Head-
master,’—with kind mention also of his wife and
children.
 Friends might say what they would. Miss Tucker
had advanced far beyond the stage when it was
possible to convince her that she ‘could not stay
alone’ in Batala. Mr. Baring had decided to go to
England for eight months; and no one else was free
to join her in Anarkalli; but she refused to desert her
post. In fact, she would not be ‘alone’ there now, as
she would have been two years earlier. She loved
and was loved by the little circle of Indian Christians
in the place; and the merry boys of the household
were very dear to her. None the less, her position
was a singularly solitary one.
The frequent arrival of boxes from England
afforded her never-failing delight; partly on her own
account, and yet more for the additional facilities
afforded thereby for giving away. Pages each year
might be filled with quotations on this subject alone.
Also month by month fresh indications appeared of
the reality of the work going on,—an inquirer here; a
convert there; an abusive Muhammadan softened
into gentleness; an ignorant Heathen enlightened; a
bigot persuaded; and now and again one coming
forward, bravely resolute to undergo Baptism, willing
to face the almost inevitable persecution following.
All these things were of perpetual occurrence, and
they lay very near to Charlotte Tucker’s heart.
 On the 30th of January 1880 comes a pungent
little sentence:—

‘What fearful people the Nihilists are! When one reads of them,
one seems to see Satan let loose! There is some similarity between
India and Russia. Perhaps some years hence a Nihilist crop may rise
from tens of thousands of sharp conceited lads whom the
Government so carefully educate without God! They cannot possibly
all get the prizes in life which they look for; they won’t dig,—so will
naturally swell the dangerous classes. Such dear lads as we have
here will be, we trust, as the salt in the mass. But they may have a
difficult work before them.’

Two letters in February to two nieces must not be

passed over. In the first we have a glimpse of the
dark as well as of the hopeful side:—

‘Feb. 2.—That most unhappy lad, ——, seems to be a thorough

hypocrite. Only a day or so after professing himself a true penitent,
and kneeling in seeming prayer at my side, he has, we hear, been
actually preaching in the bazaar here against the Christians.... The
subject is too sad to dwell upon; but it is better that I should let you
know at once, as I sent home so hopeful a letter.
‘Fancy poor E. Bibi actually paying me a visit here yesterday
evening. The delicate creature longed to come. I told her to ask her
husband’s leave, and suggested that he had better come with her.
She asked me to send my kahar in the morning, and she would send
a message by him as to whether her “Sahib” consented or not. The
answer was favourable; so I made arrangements to have two dulis
at her door after dark, for E., her mother, and her two little girls. I
warned our boys to keep out of the chapel, into which I first
introduced the Bibis. I went to the harmonium, and sang to it,
“Jesus lives,” and two or three verses of the Advent hymn, etc. While
we were in the chapel the husband joined us, sat down, and quietly
listened. He was very silent, which I think showed good manners.
‘We then all proceeded up our long staircase.... I offered tea, but
no one drank it; the children ate some pudding, and I presented
each of them with one of the dolls which your dear Mother sent out,
which I have had dressed.... I think the party were pleased. I
wonder what thoughts were passing in the mind of that silent
husband. He knows perfectly well what I visit his wife for; for in
Batala we do not hide our colours at all. I sometimes think that dear
M.[94] dashes right at the enemy almost too boldly; but as she is a
supposed descendant of Muhammad, I dare say that her dauntless
intrepidity has a good effect. I do not find the women made angry
even by what must startle them. Of course one’s manner must be
gentle and conciliating, even when meeting the question, “Do you
think that Muhammad told lies?” with a simple straightforward,
“Yes.”
‘I think that not a few Batala women do now believe that our
religion is the right one, and that our Blessed Lord is the Saviour of
sinners. But this belief may exist for years before there is any desire
for Baptism.’

‘Feb. 6.—One visit which I paid in the former place (Amritsar)

would have warmed your heart. In a cottage in the Mission
compound, occupied by one of the Bible-women, I found three who
doubtless will inherit the blessing promised to all who are persecuted
for righteousness’ sake. There was dear faithful Begum J., and her
daughter, K. (now a Bible-woman). These are the two who, as you
may remember, were threatened with a razor by Begum J.’s
husband, and fled, and were afterwards baptized. They had come to
see another brave Convert, who had been baptized on the previous
day.
‘A fierce crowd had attacked her, tore the jewels from her ears,
beat her on the head, threatened to cut off her nose! How she
escaped she cannot tell; she was bewildered. Perhaps some unseen
Angel took her by the hand. She reached somehow a duli, which was
in waiting for her, and was baptized the same day.’

The school was so growing, that by March 1880 a

good many of the boys had to sleep on the floor
which formerly had been reserved entirely for
Europeans. This Miss Tucker did not mind.
Before the end of March she had to bid good-bye
to her dharm-nephew, who was starting for England.
It must have given her a strange feeling, thus to see
one and another leave for the dear old country,
which she so loved, and yet which she had resolved
never of her own free will to see again.
The previous day a feast was given in Mr. Baring’s
honour, the boys ‘subscribing to buy the little
dainties’; and ‘speeches of love and gratitude’ being
made. Then, in the early morning, long before dawn,
Miss Tucker felt her way down the dark staircase, to
see the traveller off. ‘The babies,’ as she called some
of the tinier brown boys, were there also; one small
orphan looking ‘sad and thoughtful’ over the farewell.
Bigger boys also came down, and they waited in the
Chapel till the Principal appeared. Shakings of hands
were followed by cheers, as Mr. Baring drove away in
the dâk-gari,—‘probably with mingled feelings,’ writes
Miss Tucker. One is disposed to wonder what her
feelings were, as she turned back into the palace;
alone among her companions; the only European in
that Eastern city! Yet no signs of heart-quailing can
be seen in the letter to her sister, written on the
same day.
In this spring of 1880 came another event of
importance,—the ‘Disruption’ of the older Zenana
Society, under which Charlotte Tucker had worked as
an Honorary Member.
There is no necessity to enter fully here into the
causes which led to that disruption. To some of us it
may seem to have been, sooner or later, almost
inevitable. Until that date the attempt had been
made to work on what are sometimes called ‘un-
denominational lines,’—which meant that the
Missionaries might be either Churchwomen or
Dissenters, each teaching according to her own
convictions. A difficult programme to carry out, one
is disposed to imagine! After a while friction arose in
the Governing Body at home. Since by far the larger
majority of workers in the field belonged to the
Anglican Church, it was rightly considered that the
Governing Body ought to consist of an equally large
majority of Church people; and on this point the split
took place. The Society broke into two parts. The
one part remained more or less Dissenting; the other
part became distinctly and exclusively Church of
England. Each Missionary had to make her own
decision as to which she would join; and Charlotte
Tucker at least had no hesitation in the matter. On
the 12th of May she wrote:—

‘Here I am at home again, after my strange little visit to Amritsar;

short, but by no means unimportant. All our five ladies have crossed
the Rubicon; they have sent in their resignations, with the usual six
months’ notice. It remains to be seen whether the new “Church of
England Zenana Society” will or can take them all on! We know not
what the state of their funds will be, as they begin on nothing. Our
ladies, with Mr. Weitbrecht the Secretary, seemed to have no
hesitation as to what course to pursue,—that of resignation.... I am
very desirous to know what dear Margaret Elmslie and Emily will
do.... How the complicated machinery of the Mission will work during
the strange interregnum I know not.... One expects a sort of little—
not exactly chaos, but—struggling along in a fog, for the next six
months; and then we shall probably see our way clearly.’

On the following day she sent in her own

resignation. Little more appears about the subject in
later letters. As an Honorary Worker her own position
was not affected, nor was her income placed in
jeopardy; and soon the new ‘Church of England
Zenana Society,’ being warmly taken up, was in full
working order. Amongst those who joined it were her
friends, Mrs. Elmslie and Miss Wauton.
At this time she was becoming very anxious for the
return of Mrs. Elmslie, who had been detained in
England far longer than was at first intended, by
family claims. Sometimes a fear was expressed that
Mrs. Elmslie might never return; and no one else
could fill her place. Charlotte Tucker did not dream of
the happy consummation ahead. Two or three
references to her earlier days occur in June and July,
as if some cause had sent her thoughts backward.

‘June 4, 1880.—I think, love, that one gets into a kind of social
fetters. When we were young we had the worry of a footboy at our
heels,—it was thought suitable for our position. (Do you remember
dear Fanny’s lovely definition of that word?) When I was in
Edinburgh, dear —— was surprised, and I think a little shocked, at
“my father’s daughter” going in omnibuses. As if it were any disgrace
to my father’s middle-aged daughter to do what her precious
princely Sire had done a hundred times! O Laura, when one throws
aside these trammels of social position, one feels like a horse taken
out of harness, and set free in a nice green meadow. Our honoured
Father! what true dignity was his,—but how he shook off the
trammels!
‘To be mean and miserly is quite another thing. That dishonours
our profession. One should be ready to entertain hospitably, and to
pay for work done handsomely; there is a free hand and a generous
spirit quite consistent with economy.’

‘July 13.—Yes, love, we did intensely enjoy those concerts in H.

Square. I want you to enjoy more concerts. It is curious how useful I
have found my little music in the evening of my days. I sometimes
think of dear Mother’s words to me,—“Do not give up your music.”’

In July, when Miss Tucker was congratulating

herself that half the time of Mr. Baring’s absence was
over, a letter arrived speaking of lengthened
furlough. She was much distressed, fearing harm to
the school, and for a while was assailed by fears that
perhaps he and also Mrs. Elmslie might never return.
Happily these fears were groundless; but plans were
afloat for some temporary arrangement while the
Principal remained away. Miss Wauton too was at this
time taking her well-earned furlough in England, and
workers were sorely needed in the Panjab; while new
untrained Missionaries on first going out could do
little. ‘We want Margaret,’ was the burden of her cry;
to which was now added, ‘We want Mr. Baring.’
For herself she had no thought of a furlough.
Friends thought of it for her; and she put the idea
resolutely aside. Writing to Mrs. Hamilton on
September 6, she said: ‘And now for a more
important subject, broached in your sweet letter. I do
not feel that it would be either wise as regards
myself, or right as regards my work, to go home next
year. The great fatigue of two journeys, the
excitement of meeting loved ones, and the wrench of
parting again,—I doubt how my health could stand it.
As regards the work—I need not expatiate. It would
look as if I thought much of the little that I could do;
but little is better than nothing. It seems to me that
one of the most useful things about me is that—
hitherto—I have stuck pretty close to my Station. If I
were a Native Christian, I think that I should be
tempted to hate the very word “going home,” and to
regard Europe as a trap for my Missionaries. Let
them, if possible, have a restful feeling in regard to
at least one old woman, whom they are ready to
love.’
And a few days later to Miss Hamilton, on
September 14:—

‘Your sweet Mother threw out a suggestion about my going home

next year; but it seems to me, love, that if I did so,—unless
circumstances change,—I should deserve to be shot as a deserter.
Even if I were to become blind or paralytic, I believe that it would be
well to stick to Batala. I am the only apology for a European
Missionary here; and, curiously enough, my very age is an
advantage. What might be a great hindrance elsewhere is rather a
help here.’

In a letter of September 14 occurs a passage

about apparent success or non-success in work. She
had perhaps comforted herself from time to time
with such thoughts as follow.
Speaking about a certain American religious book,
which had been lent to her by one who greatly
admired it, and about Mr. Bateman’s opinion of the
same volume, she observes: ‘What Rowland most
objected to was the American affirming that if you
take certain means to effect conversions, the result is
as sure as harvest following breaking up the ground.
As Rowland says, we cannot even break up the
ground without God.... Are we to conclude that ——
and —— are truer workers than dear —— spending
his strength in breaking stones at K., while the
sheaves almost drop into the reapers’ arms at D.?
Did our Blessed Lord Himself, Who was always
sowing golden seed, reap a very large harvest during
His Ministry? St. Peter’s first sermon drew in a far
greater number than all the disciples of the Blessed
Lord before His Resurrection put together.’
It was evident that, although she must have felt
her lonely position, she was gradually becoming used
to it; even so far as not at all to wish for a strange
young lady as a companion. Mrs. Hamilton had made
strong representations to the Society at home of the
need of a helper at Batala; and the letters given next
seem to have been written partly in consequence of
this.
As early as the spring of 1880 Miss Tucker could
say: ‘I used to think it rather tiresome when business
took both my English companions for a few days
away; now I am quite serene if I do not see a white
face for months.’ And in November of the same year:
‘As to earthly blessings, they abound; the Natives are
my real friends. The Lord gives abundant grace, and
cheers me with His Presence; and I have such joy in
the companionship of my Bible, that I do not miss
the society I should otherwise value. Do not send a
helper to me, when many other parts of India need it
so much more.’
Again, on September 27:—

‘It is very loving in you to be so anxious for me to have a lady-

companion. But, unless a Missionary’s wife, one might far from add
either to my comfort or usefulness. To put aside the possibility of her
being eloquent,—a late sitter-up,—of a melancholy or nervous
temperament, or often ailing,—I really have no spare space for a
lady companion. She must share my bath-room, if not my bedroom;
and in India this would be very uncomfortable.
‘But why, you may say, should there be more room for a married
pair than for one maiden lady? The answer is simple enough. If a
gentleman were here, the large family of the Singhas would give up
their rooms and move to the Banyans. We must have a gentleman
Superintendent.’

Later in the same letter comes a reference to one

of the Heroes of her enthusiastic girlhood. Lady
Outram and her gallant husband had been intimate
friends of the Tucker family; and many a loving
message in these later years was sent home by
Charlotte Tucker to the former.

‘I have been reading much of the noble Outram’s Memoir to-day.

As far as I have gone, I think that the Biographer has done his work
well. The Outram of the book is just the Outram who was the
admiration of our girlhood,—generous, chivalrous, noble! One feels
how much pain that fine spirit would have been saved, had he
realised how little it really matters whether good service be
appreciated or not by man, if the great Leader accept it,—if all be
done as to Him Who never overlooks or misunderstands! To our own
Master we stand or fall; let earthly superiors say what they will.’

‘Oct. 16.—Dear, excellent —— thinks that my not having a

“Revival” in Batala is because I do not study his favourite author. You
can hardly have a Revival unless there has been some life before....
Our work is more like clearing in backwoods,—there are huge trees
and boulders cumbering the ground; not just weeds overspreading a
garden that once was a little cultivated. Then here women cannot
read, and do not choose to learn.... I like Miss Havergal’s Kept for
the Master’s Use so much. It is beautiful. But I do not feel with her
that it is possible on Earth to have our will exactly one with God’s.
Even the Blessed Saviour made a distinction between “My Will” and
“Thy Will.” Dear C. T. T., for instance, submitted sweetly to her heavy
trials; but it could not be her will, it was her cross, to lose all her
nearest and dearest, and see her father ill for so many years.’

‘Dec. 15, 1880.—Dear Mr. Clark’s return has caused so much joy.
The Native Christians have had a loving address to him printed in
letters of gold. I fancy that a general feeling is, “Now there is a hand
on the reins.” ... Mr. Clark is an experienced and skilful driver. True,
he is very weak, but he brings brains, and a power of organisation.
If he were a prisoner to his room he might be very valuable still....
He was sadly missed....’

‘Dec. 17.—Please, love, make no plans for bringing ladies to

Batala. It is so awkward to me to have to explain to nice enthusiastic
ladies that they cannot come. This is not a place except for elderly
or married ladies. If Mera Bhatija would bring out a nice wife, it
would give much pleasure; at present plans and propositions only—I
must not say burden me—but they do not help me. I do very well as
I am; I have had, through God’s goodness, a happy year; and if I
were to be ill, I would rather be doctored by our Sikh, and nursed by
our Natives. As for visitors, we have hardly any except in the cooler
weather; and a little packing then does no harm.’